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how much interest do y'all think there'd be for a climate change nation rp?
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Y'all ever do well in life just to get revenge on everyone you went to highschool with


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Millie took Wheel's cool hand in her own and squeezed it, "It's good to see you. We've been apart for so long. And you seem to have made some interesting friends."
Wheel started to protest, "They're not-" and stopped, "Yeah. They've been kind to me. Berlin, the captain, especially. This curse, it's made things so, I've been able to stay here." He looked at Uban talking to the man in glasses, "So, who's this crowd? They're treating you okay?"


Yawar's flies fidgeted, buzzing at a safe distance in a semicircle where the shifter lay in the old mans lap to keep him centered in his vision. With the knowledge that there weren’t any other shifters laying in wait for them, Yawar peeled a fly away to inform Kaga-met. Uban's attempt at reassurance only made him tense, and his vision fractured as the flies scattered from the dangerous cat. Coughing nervously, he said, "I have uh. Medical condition, I can't take them off when there's light," lightly touching the frames, he said softly, "They were a gift from my lover. When I wear them it's a reminder of what waits for me back home." -Misk, wait for me.-
He had re centered his focus on Uban, landing a fly on the railing behind Uban and another on Yawar's shoulder. The sailor had a rough, easy charm to him, -The captain, Millie's friend, Uban, they're sailing a pleasure barge here.-
Yawar’s thoughts had strayed from the conversation, and Uban had kept talking, something about the woman pirate and grenadoes, when he brandished a pair of small objects in front of him. Yawar leaned closer to act like he was studying them, and when Uban tossed them into the air accompanied by a crack of lightning, the flies closest to the lightning were blinded and he stumbled back. Understanding of what Uban had been saying came crashing down on him, and he exclaimed, “Incredible! You’re able to harness your lightning to weapons, and, runes? In my years of study and travel I’ve never seen anything like it. I’ve heard the mages of the east are able to control the elements, but they use tools and implements,” His curiosity piqued, he resembled his flies to study the bald headed woman more closely, though still avoiding the dangerous cat, “You said Hana made these runes? How interesting.”

Kaga-Met chewed his lower lip, “Yes, I understand. I’ll instruct my crew to avoid sharing personal details, though it looks like they’re talking with one another already.” He looked wryly at Yawar, who from the looks of it was stiffly making conversation with Uban. Millies conversation with Wheel, however, concerned him.
“Berlin, if I make speak frankly, who is this Wheel? I trust Millie in a fight, but she can be rather, ah, hotheaded, and she doesn’t speak much of her past to us. I know she came from the northern city of Vyrm, but that’s all.”
At this point, a fly landed on his hand, and walked in a clockwise circle before taking off again. All clear. Kaga-met had been weighing his decision since stepping aboard, and it was time to make a choice. The Swift wasn’t capable of defeating the slavers by itself, and while there were mysteries and dangers with this pirate crew, their intentions were clear and they were open to cooperation. It’d be harder to find better allies. Trusting them meant losing any advantage they still held, but it was necessary.
“Captain, I’m keen on talking strategy with you, but there’s another thing you should know,”
He called out to his chiurgeon, “Yawar! Show them what you can do!”

Yawar was startled to hear the command so shortly after he’d told his captain, but then, it wasn’t his place to call the shots. He just hoped it wouldn’t scare Uban to death.
All across the ship, the flies that had been watching and hiding lifted into the air, buzzing and swarming above Yawars head, forming a dark cloud over him. The cloud broke into two as the flies then flew below his chin and up behind his glasses.
Once it was done, he smiled weakly at Uban.

Kaga-met said, “Yawar is our chiurgeon, a trained doctor. He has undergone a treatment, and now sees out of the eyes of the flies that he controls. He can see anything they do, and can serve excellently in gathering information. Berlin, we can discuss specifics later, but let me say this. If we succeed I will see to it that you are rewarded, and not just in the pleasure of defeating evil and replacing it with good.”
He outstretched his hand, “Shall we address our team?”

Wheel leaned back, looking sharply at Millie. She returned his gaze steadily. After the heist, the botched escape, Clavicles death, they never found each other. He hadn't looked hard, the child duke had an appetite for revenge like the old duke did, so he ran, hit the coast, mostly stopped thinking about Vyrm. And here she was. Only four years, and.

She had fucking tentacles.

And that wasn't the strangest thing that was going on.

The only consolation (besides the fact that his heart felt like bursting and it felt good and he had missed her so much and here she was) was that he had some stories of his own.

-oh great, he's going to choke to death and they'll think i poisoned him- Yawar froze, unsure if it would look more suspicious if he tried to help or if he didn't move as Uban coughed. Before he could make up his mind, Uban straightened up, -oh never mind- and asked, "Y-you mean like"
-wouldnt that be something- He chuckled weakly, as if Uban had made a joke, "Not quite, more like, hrm." of course he doesn't know of the gifts "It can, give birth to parts, and can be assembled by us. Like if a woman gave birth to a torso and limbs, and sewed it up together." -shit thatll scare him for sure- "It's not truly alive of course. A doll, or a wagon, made of flesh and bone. Not human, of course." He hurriedly added. The boy was a cat, and the cat was searching for something. He drew back the closest flies, the smoke from the two sailors were making them sleepy anyway.
Looking to generate camaraderie with the man who didn't seem to be threatening him -unlike the shifter boy-, he asked, "You've a fine ship. It must take quite a few hands to keep her in line."

Kaga-met's eyes narrowed at Berlin's reaction to his country, and a scowl flashed across his face at learning the reason why. He looked for the boy, and didn't see him. He must have gone below decks. Looking back to the Captain, he was once again struck by the question of trust. He took a sip of tea to purchase some time to think. Berlin had given him fair warning, and the boys grudge was justified, if somewhat misplaced. Yawar knew not to overplay his hand, though their homeland hadn't been one of the issues they'd considered. He hadn't considered there might be some ill-will towards Bariz among the foreigners. Shifters, however...

"What weapon?" His voice carried some of the slight bruising Berlin had just done to his ego, "Is a dragon ship not enough of a weapon?"
He cleared his throat, "My crew is few, but we're well trained and we've already sunk one of their galleys. Millie is quite the threat, she can swing from the Swift onto the enemy deck and grapple back as quickly. I'm a fine shot, and Yawar is much more than meets the eye. If we work together, I'm sure we will put an end to the devils."
Kaga-mets shock at Berlin's command was broken by his sheepish apology for the spilt tea. The contrast between the power this man held and his behavior was too much to handle at once. Laughter bubbled out of him, "It's quite alright," He said with a smile, "I'm used to worse than hot water, and so are you, I suspect." He let the captain refill his mug (though he avoided physical contact), and spoke in a more serious voice, "Let us speak at the bow, fair dealings are better done under the sun." And though most of his fear for these strange pirates was gone, it was prudent for him to remain close to the Swift and the rest of his crew. He raised an eyebrow at the exchange between Berlin and the shifter. He couldn't understand the flowing language, but he recognized the captains stern command and softer explanation and the surly youth. He had enough trouble dealing with his own children (Why had he left them for this?) and the thought of managing a rowdy boy able of turning into a dragon was enough to stir anxiety in him. The captains powers must be strong enough to keep him in line.

Once the two had reached the bow, he gave a quick survey of the rest of the ship before he began to speak. Millie was still speaking with the musketman-Wheel. The lightning sailor (Bourbon?) had sidled up to Yawar, and the two were engaging in what looked like small talk. The mage and the old man were sitting next to one another, speaking softly.


Yawar was surprised when the pirate started talking to him. Normally he was left alone, which suited him fine. He didn't like the attention the shifter boy was giving him, but at least it fell within the recognizable category of threat. This man- Uban- was trying to fall into the category of non-threat. He hastily drew back some flies to give him better detail of Uban. Somewhat taller than him, something wrong with his left hand? He couldn't tell. Realizing too late that he'd been silent since Uban had spoken, he abruptly said, "Hello, my name is Yawar." He hadn't had any water to drink recently, and his voice came out in a raspy croak. He made a show of looking back at the Swift, but it was more behind him than he had thought so he had to twist his neck back. Swiveling his head around, he tried to think of what he could say about the Swift. "Yes, it's the first of it's kind." A thought bloomed in the front of his mind and he said with the forced levelness of someone trying not to cough, "Theoretically, it could create a smaller one."


Hana looked at Pieter with a look of plain bewilderment. He didn't have much of an answer, so he packed and lit his pipe, let out a blue plume of smoke, and silently passed it to her. After she had puffed on it, he said, "Looks like Wheel has other friends." She laughed and ended up choking on the smoke coming out her nose, and replied once she calmed down, "Don't sound so hurt Pieter." He chuckled, and they continued to pass the pipe.


Yawar focused again on Berlin, and said, "I am a Barizian and agent of the Path of Justice, a movement dedicated to stopping the barbaric acts of the slavers you seek. They are supporters of the Path of Prosperity, a faction of profiteers who see no value in ajnaib, ehr, foreigners," The word meant barbarian, the two were interconnected but he saw no reason in antagonizing these people, "Other than uses for our magic." He gestured to the Swift, a note of pride filling his voice "Our dragon ship is the first of it's kind, an instrument made without any human sacrifices. We mean to defeat the slavers with a weapon that can prove the backwardness of their method." And though he lacked the unworldly charisma of this ajnaib, he spoke forcefully when he looked into Berlins eyes, "I ask for your assistance in stopping this shadow on the earth."
The only thing that had kept Kaga-met from drawing his gun had been the stillness of the other pirates. If it had really been an ambush, they wouldn’t be alive. When it turned out that Millie knew the musketman and left to speak with him, most of the tension left his body. Not all of it, but as he took a sip of the still hot tea, he wasn’t worried it was poisoned. Kaga-met carefully studied each pirate as they were introduced. The woman surprised him, the only mages he’d met before were, loud, with their appearance. His eyes widened when he saw the arc of lightning. He’d never seen anything like that before. The chiurgeons back home would have a field day with him, he thought. If Pieter, the firstmate, had acquired the tattoos he was covered in at sea, he’d been a sailor for a long time. The musketman was named Wheel. Millie had never mentioned him by name. But if that’s how he greeted old acquaintances, that wouldn’t be so surprising. It was a relief to know that there was only one shifter, though that was enough to make him uncomfortable.

Yawar kept his silent watch. The shifter boy had begun to stare him down. He wasn’t sure why he’d been chosen, but the flies nearest the boy saw how his body moved with his attention, now focused entirely on himself. Yawar slowly turned his head so it looked like he was making direct eye contact, then turned his ‘gaze’ towards the captains, ignoring the boy. Millie knew not to reveal his secret, but his flies revealed that the two were speaking with hands screening their mouths. She didn’t want him to read their lips. Fine. He withdrew the closest flies, turning his attention to form a loose net around the rest of the pirates. He didn’t want the boy to notice the flies, so he kept them low to the ground, only flying in short hops to better reposition themselves.

Kaga-met glanced at Yawar when Berlin asked for his hand, and seeing the chiurgeon nod, clasped the broad pinkish hand with his slender brown one. “Alright captain, I- My name is Kaga-met ir Sabdul.” And when he tried to clap his hands together, the one still holding the mug sloshed, the scalding water splashing on his hands and jacket sleeve. He grimaced in pain, swept the expression from his face and fixed his gaze on Berlin. “Captain, I’d like to speak privately with you.”
Wheel hears Berlin, that old nag, speaking. What's said doesn't register. Hes gone numb, and the distance between his finger and the trigger is unfathomable. Speaking only to her, he says,
"You owe me an explanation. "
"So do you."
They stare at each other.
Millies voice is level, " I thought you were dead."
"I might as well be."
"Not yet."
Millie lowers the spear, he keeps the musket level. Her lips twitch in what could be a smile.
Her tentacles unfurl, raising high above her in the air.
She is terrifying, something monstrous still human.
So is he.
Her tentacles drop, dragging briefly on the deck before she pushes them erect, crossing the deck faster than anything should.
Towering over him, she stares down the barrel of the gun to his unmoving face.
"I went after you," she says in a choked whisper.
The gun trembles briefly, and he jerks it down as soon as he notices.
Weakness is how you die.
He can barely stand.
She drops heavily to her feet, her tentacles limp.
He buries himself in her arms.
"I'm sorry" he says, inaudibly.
They look up to the crowd watching them, and their scowls are identical. They beat a fast retreat to the far side of the deck, not speaking until their heads are bent close and they are safe.
The Swift's riders struggled to keep their expression neutral when the boy revealed himself to be a shifter. Millie ignored the sudden urge to knock the kids smirk off his face. Looking at the other pirates, she wondered if the other pirates were shifters too. No way to find out unless she opened their veins.
Kaga-met smiled at the prospect of tea, "We'd be happy to share your tea. The Swift can do much, but there's no fire aboard and no tea."
Yawar stood silently, watching past his dark glasses. His vision was split across several dozen flies, each buzzing and darting and looking out with 360 degree vision. It was radically different than human eyes, but he'd become used to interpreting what he saw. There he stood, seemingly watching the two captains speak while he peered into every corner of the ship. There weren't any other pirates below-decks, but there was a man hidden from them aiming a musket at them. Leaning his head, Yawar whispered to Millie, "A man is pointing a musket at us, no, there."

Without speaking, Millie lifted her spear and aimed it at the hiding gunman. "Best come out, friend."
Millie studied the caravel below. The white sails looked like cresting waves against the green waters She swaying in time with the wingbeats, she held onto one of the Swift’s hands with a tentacle, trying to guess what would greet them. . As they drew closer, she could make out human-shaped sailors crossing the deck. The shifters were hiding -or- it was easier to sail a ship as a human. Idly, she wondered what a ship sailed by animals would be like. Dogs pulling the ropes, rat helmsmen, and (why not?) a raven in the crow’s nest.
A fly fumbled into her face, and she twisted away from the buzzing shock at her cheek. Clinging to her shoulder for a moment, it rubbed its hands together in thought and was whipped away by the wind. A summons from Yawar ir Shrajr, the ship’s chiurgeon.

Climbing up, she went to join her crew.


Watchers lurked beneath the impenetrable waters. A storm was brewing above, and sight was clear under it.

The prince and the chiurgeon lifted their heads from conversation as Millie entered the cabin. Made of waxed canvas stretched over a hollow in the Swift’s back, it held three chests of personal possessions, two bunks, a glowworm lantern hanging from the ceiling, a folding canvas stool, and a small pile woven carpet. The beds were occupied, so Millie took the stool. They had spoken privately since she’d relayed the conversation she’d had with the shifter. Nothing she did was confidential anyways, Yawar saw what his flies did, and he told Kaga-met everything. They nodded in greeting, and Kaga-met spoke, “I’ve heard stories about shifters. They’re driven by passion, so we must tread carefully. They’re hunting Path of Prosperity, so we might be able to draw them into some deal.” Millie leaned forward and added, “I counted at least five, maybe six. Pirate ships don’t carry big crews, but if they’re hunting a slavers galley?” She shrugged, unsure of what was waiting on the caravel below. Yawar’s dark glasses caught a glint of lanternlight, and flies crawled beneath his glasses and flew away, like bees from a hive. He raised his hoarse voice and said, “The Swift was fed yesterday, it can get itself out of the ocean in a hurry if need be.” Kaga-met looked down at the swirling designs of the carpet silently, weighing his thoughts. “We’ll set down, perhaps we can make some deal with these pirates.”


Pieter leaned on the rail next to the cannon. He held a smoldering bit of rope unobtrusively at his side. If fighting broke out, he didn’t want to have to go looking for flint and steel. It took a while for the dragon to reach them. His heart dropped as the whole Borealis was cast in the shadow of the dragon. It slowly looped the Borealis, gliding lower until it descended into the water. The crash of water was smaller than he expected, and there, he could finally see, like overgrown whiskers along the side of the dragon, arms. They were hard to make out, because they were the same yellowed, slightly translucent hide that covered the dragon. They worked in motion, paddling while the dragon twisted in the water. The rope fell from his fingers and went out with a hiss on the wet deck. By the time he’d rekindled it, the dragon had drawn alongside the Borealis.


It was Millie, back from the dead. It was a monster with tentacles and Millie’s face. But not the face she’d had in Vyrm, she’d grown and aged. And had tentacles. He couldn’t feel the curse, felt great, actually. He picked up one of the muskets Hana had loaded, felt ready. Ready to banish an evil spirit wearing an old face. He had backed out of sight by the time she was leaping aboard portside. The kid could watch him from the ropes. He wouldn’t interfere, Wheel thought, not when monsters were aboard. He knelt, hefting the musket, aimed it her head.


After receiving permission, Millie leapt across first, keeping her tentacles curled behind her back and her heavy spear steady as she landed on the deck. The flies that had clung to her covertly peeled away, infiltrating the ship. Kaga-met went over after her, his curved dagger rapping against his waist as he caught his balance on board. He was studying the pirates before Yawar had jumped over. An old man covered in tattoos stood next to a cannon (charming), a bear of a man with a ponytail, a sailor who looked like he’d been on watch the entire night, an East Continental woman holding a staff and watching them intensely, a child with cherubic curls perched in the ropes. He hadn’t been sure what to expect, but it hadn’t been this. The man that had flown up to them wasn’t present. At least one was a shifter, and there could be more. The large ponytail man approached them, and Kaga-met bowed at the waist. Captain Berlin seemed to be a reasonable man, and Kaga-met felt more confident as he replied, “Thank you, Captain Berlin. I am Captain Kaga-met ir Sabdul of the dragon-ship Swift Justice please, call me Kaga-met,” It wasn’t likely that the pirates would appreciate formality, “We’re hunting the slaver fleet operating in this area. We’d be interested in working with you on driving them to hell.
Hana shaded her eyes as she watched the cyradian glide into an easy landing. She was almost finished readying the muskets and pistols, when the fighting came, there would be no wait. Rio was speaking quickly, his eyes darting between Berlin, Pieter, and back towards the sky, where the dark smudge was growing bigger by the second. Hana was too far away to hear most of what he was saying, but she gathered that he’d made contact with the people on the back of the dragon. The word ‘dead’ reached her, and dread stirred the hairs on her neck. What was up there? Already, she had seen such incredible, terrible things. What could shake these people? Then, the boy became a tentacled woman, and Hana gasped.


Wheel struggled mightily to look like he was doing fine. Slowly carrying pails of sand to various parts of the ship, the curse went wild. His emotions leapt from ecstasy to despair, and he stumbled when half of his body went ice cold and the other burning hot. The bucket almost tipped over, and he roughly set it down, panting. He had more important tasks to finish, if he thought the dragon was going to breath fire, what would pails of sand do? He didn’t move, just stood there, trying to take deep breaths so he could get some air in him. Standing in the hallway, he could hear the cyradan’s leathery wingflap over the crashing waves and creaking sails. The boy’s footsteps were a hard patter, Pieter walked with confidence, though he sometimes favored his left leg. Berlin walked with more grace than his heavy tread let on. Hana’s fast gait gave her away, and Uban never stopped walking like a farmer. He leaned against the bulkhead as tiredness stole through him. Lethargy dulled his awareness, and his head grew heavy and began to sink. He rested his eyes, plotting, desperate to wake up. The most he could do was keep himself upright, fighting the urge to lie down and sleep. He didn’t know what would happen if he did, so he forced himself to stand. He couldn’t say how long he stayed trapped in the exhaustion. It could have been minutes, it could have been a half hour. With what felt like a crack, a burning alertness drove him up the stairs to the deck. It felt like a cheap second wind, but if that’s all the curse wanted to give him, he’d take it.
It was only when he was squinting into the bright sky and he watched the dragon glide towards them did he have the sinking feeling that he’d walked into a trap.


The dragon was in eyesight before long, the long, snakelike body undulating with the steady beat of massive wings. By the time it was with cannon range, it had begun to circle high above the Borealis. A keen observer with a spyglass would have seen the riders standing at the head and looking at the ship below. The caravel wasn’t judged as a threat, and after wheeling away to gain some distance, angled down towards the water. The dragon’s wings were spread to slow its descent, and sunlight shone through the vellum wings, dark veins standing out like ink. Its forelegs were flexed and the claws lifted as it neared the water. The three riders crouched low on the back, bracing before it touched the water. It was big, though not on the same scale as the turtle. Before reaching the water, it folded its wings against its sides and struck a landing as gently as it could. Avoiding what could have been a very large splash, the dragon began to sinuously twist its long body, swimming along the surface of the water.

It closed the distance between the caravel, and the three riders were standing at the head, with the tentacled woman waving.


And he saw her. Millie.


“Permission to board?” She called to the pirates.

The children sat on the benches high above the pit, idly watching two men beat each other bloody. Above them, the thatch roof leaked rainwater as the gray clouds opened on the city. Below them, past the rough pine planks that supported the balcony, a teeming crowd roared for violence. Lowland laborers wearing sabots stuffed with muddy wool swapped copper chits over bets, temporary fortunes made and lost over swinging fists. Brightly dressed mercenaries leaned on their pikes and drank, glaring at the cloaked highland clansmen, who clutched their longswords and did the same.

Corinx, the oldest of the four, turned to them and asked, “When do you think Thom is going to get us?” He’d had looked like Wheel when they were younger, but now his arms and chin were sprouting hair and he had grown to a mans height, with no sign of stopping. Millie, shaking her braided hair, replied, “I hope The Lions stabbed him.” Chased out of town after the last Duke sided with Thom, Millie had taken to bringing up the disgraced betyar’s whenever she was in a foul mood. At this, Ingrin struck Millie’s leg with her fist, “Don’t say that here.” The charley horse wasn’t bad, so Millie didn’t get upset. Ingrin was Thom’s favorite, so she kept them safe from him, even if it meant hurting them a little sometimes. They were alone, the shaded platform they sat on was reserved for important guests when they visited the fighting pits. Since the war had stalled out, nobody with enough money and an interest in watching men fight had visited the abandoned clay pits on the outskirts of the city Vyrm. So, the four of them sat there, waiting. The crowd went silent, and Wheel, the smallest, turned to look. The bearded fighter had slammed the side of his arm into his opponent’s throat. He was now on the ground, slowly writhing. The silence lasted while the bearded fighter spoke to a large man with a massive, banded belly and thick rings on his fingers. Thom.

Thom walked to where the dying fighter lay. Despite the mud, he walked steadily, unwavering. His steps were marked with sprays of mud, and he left watery craters in his wake. Drawing a bone handled knife from his belt, he knelt. A silence spread over the pits, out of shame or respect or some combination of the two. The rain continued to fall, and the hissing water dissolved the silence, freeing clusters of gamblers to mutter, coins sullenly passing hands. The moment passed, the crowd woke up, louder than before, and Thom stood, looking directly at Wheel. His gaze rested heavily on Wheel, and he found it hard to breath. Thom smiled, and Wheel flinched. Looking away, he watched Millie while she rebraided Ingrin’s hair, the punishment already forgiven. Her blue eyes were like Wheel’s, and the washerwomen teased that they came from the same mountain village. In truth, Wheel had no idea where they were from, or who their parents were. They were Thom’s Children.

The body had been dragged away, and the next fighters were making ready. The crowd had tasted death tonight, and fistfights would bore them. Thom was gone, the puddles he’d left behind growing bigger. The next act were the knives, long glinting things with sharp edges for slashing, where the blood and water would mix and stain the ground so even the drunks could follow the action. Corinx stood up, adjusting the twine belt that kept his tunic fastened around his waist.
“Let’s get out of here,” He said, “We can eat and sleep in the church tonight.”
Millie shook her head and said, “Somebody would drag us out before we could finish the prayers the priests make us say.”
“I agree with Millie,” Ingrin added before Corinx could reply, “You know he’s going to be right sour tonight.”
“All the more reason for us to go!”

Wheel spoke up, raising his voice to say, “Thom’s almost here.” And like his words had summoned him, the ladder that went up to the platform began to shake as someone climbed up.
Ingrin lifted the trapdoor, and Thom’s bodyguard, Gopnik, poked his head out. His shaggy brown hair covered his eyes, and he pushed it back before he said, “Alright you lot. Come on, we’re going to Gull’s tavern.”
And they went.
The woman remained latched to the dragon with one tentacle, while the other curled underneath the small fur cape that hung from her shoulders. She had pulled down the wrap that covered her face, and while she studied him Rohaan could finally see her face. She had pale blue eyes and a narrow mouth. Her dark brown hair looked like she'd cut it into a chin length bob with the knife strapped to her leg. If conditions at sea were harsh, the sky had ravages of it's own. The wind and sun had chapped her face, and the blazing light could have been the cause for her steady squint at the shifter. It was only when the rest of her crew had joined her did it become apparent she had been stalling. "This one is a shifter, stay sharp." She called back, tilting her head while keeping her eyes on Rohaan. The rifle was aimed at his midsection now, as if a gut wound was more polite than one through the lungs.

The two other riders were men, one taller and one shorter. Both were wearing similar jackets and trousers to the woman, though they wore leather harnesses and cloth turbans. The harnesses were to move around the dragon. Bone spurs grew out of the dragons skin and formed rings that the metal calipers could clip to. By unclipping and clipping to the different spurs, they were able to travel safely along the dragons back. The taller man's turban was white, while the shorter man's was red. The taller man had a full, groomed mustache and white flashing teeth, while the shorter man wore dark glasses that obscured his eyes. The two had been affected by what could be called dignified surprise, the tall man and replied loud enough to be heard over the wind, "Well, it's always a pleasure to meet someone else who doesn't like slavers." His Carisian was accented He said something privately to his compatriot, and he walked to stand next to the woman. They conferred for a moment, and the man laughed, "We'll fly to your ship. You're welcome to join us," he called to Rohaan.

He tugged at his mustache and bowed, the metal harnesses clinking as he said, "I am Kaga-met ir Sabdul, captain of the dragon ship Swift Justice." He raised his head, and he stared directly into Rohaan's eyes. The Justice slowly wheeled, and began gliding towards the caravel.

"Now," He said, "Tell me who you are and who you serve."
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